Moonsets and Sunsets
by YellowTangerines
Summary: The Beta kids and Mekakushi Dan may have their unwritten moments, but that isn't to say nothing happens then. Here, then, are the scenes that the main string of stories didn't get to take as their own. Collection of Homestuck crossovers with Kagerou Project, no Sburb, no trolls. May have spoilers. /Story # of Mekakustuck / Current act: Offstage
1. Catch a Breath

_AN: Hello, everybody! It's been a while and ACT 2 is taking a while to write, so I decided to upload this to tide you guys over._  
 _This fic is different from the others, as the blurb may suggest - instead of this being one story in multiple chapters, it's multiple stories all under a 1000 words. Everything here is canon to Mekakustuck, and can be read in any order. Stories that don't have explicit hints on where they are in the Mekakustuck timeline will have a timestamp under the title. If it doesn't have a timestamp, just keep reading.  
Enjoy! ~YellowTangerines_

* * *

 **Moonsets and Sunsets**

-tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT]-

TT: Afternoon, John.

GT: oh, hi rose!  
GT: so, we are going to continue our serious talk.  
GT: without you going grimdark, that is.

TT: Yes, we will continue what we were doing here last time.  
TT: There won't be any grimdarkness involved, John; those days are past.  
TT: But like always I'll be the one asking the questions.  
TT: Try and answer, but don't if it makes you uncomfortable.  
TT: It'll be like my psychoanalysis.

GT: ok, i can do that.

TT: Good. Here's your first question.  
TT: Have you had any personal wishes in the past?

GT: personal.

TT: Yes, John.  
TT: "Personal", as in "very close to the self".  
TT: What did you want back then? I have old psychoanalysis logs if you need to refresh your memory.

GT: bluh. i think i need that refresher, rose.

TT: All right. I'm going through those logs right now.  
TT: You talked quite a bit about your father, John, and how he liked to buy you so many harlequins.  
TT: When you asked why, he said you defaced your posters in your sleep, drawing clowns and writing insults with arrows pointing to yourself. All in our text colours, might I add.  
TT: You denied it as though you didn't see anything, but when you gave me a photo of your room it was obvious that you tried to clean it to no avail. The ink dried long ago.

Ink. Insults. Right. The start of John's memories spread in his mind, and with them – as was customary by now – the harsh weight of the Projecting Eyes. The present was fading. John pushed his fingers to fly against the keyboard, typing in hopes he wouldn't make any typos.

GT: rose, i'm about to do the projecty thing again!

TT: Safe travels, then. I'll be here when you get back.

* * *

Thirteen. The past self in this moment was thirteen. And, he had his back turned. John stepped backwards into the closet as soon as he knew he was in the past, shuffling so that the door would keep him from sight. The sunlight out there was a stark contrast from the night-like darkness in the closet, putting a bit of strain on John's eyes. What month was it? The trickster squinted to catch the bold, pixellated word on the calendar. August. Four years made that month's name weigh a million pounds. August. What day was it today? When his past self flopped onto the bed and sighed the deepest sigh of all, John took the chance to glance at the date on the computer.

15th. August 15th, 12:30 PM. John nearly forgot to zip back into the closet when his past self swiveled around, though not so fast that his cover would be blown. In the safety of the hangers and shirts, the trickster began to reminisce. He didn't remember everything, nor could he see everything over there by his (their?) bed – but the two sources of information were enough to complete each other. All it took was a little squinting, a little brainwork. The pieces were falling back into place after being forgotten for so long.

Faded marker and scrubbed movie poster hung from the wall. A wet sponge soaked the bed sheets it sat on. Past John, back against the wall and feet up on the mattress, stared at a little slip of paper with a deep scowl. That frown gave way to a frustrated growl, crumpling that little slip and nearly launching it into the closet. The older John stuck a foot out if for a second, trying to roll it over into his little corner of the room. He unfurled it slowly, so as not to get himself caught, but enough to catch the words on it.

One of Dad's encouragement notes, the kind he left all over the house. This one was lying around the popcorn bags, the trickster remembered, and it was written in the same grey, stern all-caps voice that trademarked his childhood. Of course. The writing on the wall, the permanent marker in Dave, Jade and Rose's text colours – those were the insults he put up with a white-knuckled fist and an exhausted kind of fury. Because he would never take things seriously. His friends weren't raised with the nice kind of parent John had, they trusted him enough to confide, but he could only be rude or insensitive to people he didn't really know anymore. That, John knew, was when his old life ended. It ended when people began to be different but really were the whole time, and not when the Heat Haze swallowed him.

The wrinkled slip also said something about a movie. It was movie night, this was the movie night note, they would break out every Nic Cage movie that sat in the house. And they would never do it again. God, how he wished he could do it again. What about back when they were all simple, innocent kids and the world was a great place to live in everyday? He wished he could do it again.

The room and scrubbed-out posters began to melt and blend into each other. When John came to again, there was only one of him in the room.

* * *

GT: hey rose.

TT: Welcome home to the present, John.  
TT: What did you see back there?

Rose couldn't have picked a harder question to answer.

 **End**


	2. A Hazy Kind of Space

Jade's thoughts came alive again, and as such she pulled herself to her feet. A headache, combined with an unrelenting heat, pounded and wouldn't let go. It didn't use to be so hot. But where was this? Jade reached for her rifle behind her back, but it wasn't there. It wasn't on the ground by her, it wasn't _anywhere_ in this endless, stone-set landscape. Not there. Not anywhere in sight. This place, as much as it begged her to be explored, was no part of her island. And Grandpa – where was Grandpa? The idea of being alone, even during the visits where she wasn't supposed to be, made Jade's head dizzy with some mix of feelings she dared not dwell on. No, the gardener reminded herself, she had to think. The last thing she saw was the lock-and-loading of her Grandpa's gun, a bit of stalling and then an out-of-place gunshot…

"…Jade!" Grandpa called. The loneliness dissipated into thin air, as Jade took off towards her grandfather. She met him in a warm hug fuelled by momentum and arm strength, swinging as possible as it was to swing a fifteen-year-old-girl.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Grandpa!" Jade's smile was as warm as the hug she got, through a worried frown took its place. "Is it possible that you have my rifle, Grandpa? It's just not on me. I must have lost it when we landed here!"

The old man shook his head. "No, my dear girl. Falling down here, I lost my rifle too! Whoever built this place must have known we adventurers would come. Phew, and it's hot in here too! What kind of ruins are these? Come, my sweet Jade, we're already outside."

 _No._ The two didn't take more than a couple of steps when a woman's voice rang throughout the sky, echoing in smooth places as if they were indoors. It brought to Jade's mind the personified sound of a…a snake? She froze in place.

 _That's not right. An independent girl should find a way out on her own._ The stones fell upwards to reveal offset puddles of seawater. They were cold and clear, and yet, it was getting even hotter. Jade blinked. Where there once were pillars and cobblestone with grass squeezed through the cracks, was now empty expanse with only remnants of what she saw before. Who she saw before. What Jade feared mere moments ago was now her reality: she was alone when she didn't need to be. "Grandpa? Grandpa?" Jade called.

 _Did you not hear me? If you are an independent child, you could leave by yourself. Your Grandpa shouldn't help you – you're too big for that._

 _That is why you live alone most months._

The voice had spun Jade down to her bones and frail nerves, in which she was the smallest thing in the world. She ran. Jade took left turns, right turns, she backtracked and went straight. In her mind, all the running was to look for an exit, but the scared little girl within her was looking for Grandpa as much as the way out. Had to deny it, though. Being small and scared wouldn't get her out of here.

 _Are you still looking for him? I thought you were stronger._ That voice.

 _What, are you getting tired?_ That voice. Jade's thoughts strayed from running.

 _Going the right way?_ That voice! Jade couldn't run anymore. The gardener cut her momentum off with a jerk, taking her head in her hands. "Shut up," she croaked. Then she yelled. "Shut up!"

 _Is that what you want? You are dependent after all._

Argh!

 _But you can have the power to shut me up._ The spite in the abstract voice withdrew, leaving only that irritating calm that prodded Jade as much as the thick, humid-hot air. _In fact, you already have it._

 _Inside you, Jade._

The world was black and scaly red, the world was drowning as it drowned her, and it was all Jade saw before she fell asleep again.

 **End**


	3. Time Your Words

_Timestamp_ : Flashstepper

No, reflection was Rose's thing, for Rose to do way over in Rainbow Falls. She could think about her day if she wanted to. But not him, thought Dave.

And yet, it was the need to reflect that kept him from falling asleep. Dave rolled from one end of the mattress to the other, pulling a blanket over his shoulder. He rolled again, switching back and forth between leaning over the edge of the bed and leaning over the edge of the bed. Didn't make any of the words go away in Dave's head. Didn't keep him from thinking, remembering events that really didn't need to be relieved. It wasn't cool of him one bit, and besides, wasn't one of the Japanese guys on Pesterchum a mind reader or something?

But it wasn't likely, Dave reminded himself, that a guy could read someone's thoughts all the way across the ocean. He sighed, squinting when the light from his phone screen showed him the time. 4:13 in the morning. Guess a coolkid could spare a little time for thinking about things that happened, then. Maybe without ending up in the past moment itself, though, like John was so keen on doing all the goddamn time. Yeah, that'd be great.

* * *

The cafeteria was cream walls and blinking LED lights, spiced curry air and noise. God, it was loud, with everyone talking over each other. Did anyone ever shut up in this Washington school? Dave wasn't complaining, though. If this was going to be the only lunch hour of the year where he wasn't cooped up in a teacher's classroom for flashstepping or some shit, he'd enjoy it as much as he could.

When it was his turn to get curry and whatever else the cafeteria was serving today, the lunch lady only squinted and frowned when pushing food in the coolkid's direction. She broke and remade eye contact every couple of seconds, from the part where Dave strode up to her to the part where he dropped the money into her hand and stepped off. Once he was out of the lineup, her shoulders relaxed and words spilled out of her mouth again. Some of the other kids waiting to get lunch were even doing the same thing - but while carving a space around _that kid_ in the red hoodie.

Add ten to the pile of judgers, then. Dave walked on.

He caught a spot of blue hoodie in the corner of his eye, somewhere way over in the back of the hall. John couldn't be easier to pick out in a crowd.

"'Sup, John?" Dave asked.

"Oh, hey Dave!" John looked up from his lasagne, mouth still full of pasta and tomato sauce. He swallowed. "You're not in detention today! I can't believe it."

"It's a fucking miracle, that's what it is. So, John, are we going to talk about normal things like normal kids who have not – " Dave dropped his spoon, putting his fingers up in air quotes " – 'lived' through weird shit?"

"Oh come on, Dave! Let's put the quote-unquote 'weird shit' aside for a day. I mean, I could pull out my PDA and talk to Rose if I wanted to do that. And before you ask, I am not going to fall face-first into my pasta and end up in social class a couple of hours ago.

"Haha, nice," the coolkid answered.

The kids at the tables across from John and Dave's picked their food up, looking to eat further away from _those two_. Some even left the cafeteria entirely.

"So, is the new house you're staying in also filled with creepy puppets?" John asked.

"I fucking wish it was puppets. Instead it's a whole bunch of sport team jerseys and flags everywhere. The couple that decided to take me in really loves football, and I don't want to ask why." Dave took a shot of apple juice.

The chatter in the rest of the cafeteria was dimming.

"John, do you ever eat anything that's not baked? Ever?"

"Bluh. I don't even know why Nanna has a stove when all she uses is the oven."

Whispers. The other kids were whispering now, trying to be discreet about what they were saying. John and Dave weren't deaf, after all.

"So Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was keeps insisting she was pranked by someone. That something that has to do with you, John?"

"I told her, no! I didn't…" John stuck his fork in his food. "Dave, I think something's wrong around here."

Oh.

 _Haven't you guys seen the things that happen around those two?_ murmured someone from one table.

 _There's no way that kid in the blue hoodie is human. He's got snake eyes sometimes, and then he doesn't!_ Something from another table.

 _Don't let the shades fool you into thinking he's cool. That guy in the red hoodie – I'd bet a million bucks he's some sort of demon._ Yet another whisper, and another in the same vein.

Dave lost his appetite.

 **End**


	4. Hear the Daylight

_Timestamp: Post-_ The Seer's Thirst

All throughout Rose's dreams and first waking minutes, she heard a single voice. Bold.

This voice was ready to push all others away by cutting them from the throat, vivid wherever Rose's mind turned. The sound it cast was deep and looming and unbreakable, seeping deep into every crack of the psychoanalyst's core. It tainted her dreams. Shook her thoughts, and never failed to tell her about something called guilt. Over and over again. If Rose ever called this voice stunning, she was sure that the dread would drown her. This was the single voice that she heard. It belonged to a snake, and a venomous one at that.

Then, breaking the sound, were two other voices. They came from outside, after that creaking door and the flooding sunlight. Rose heard them with her ears, rather than her mind and soul. When she listened more closely, they sounded bright, open. Stronger, belonging to themselves in every way possible. Meaning well. Able to lighten the heart and lift spirits with only a couple words. What were they saying? _Wake up_ , did they say? Wake up?

"Wake up!"

Of course. Of course! Rose's eyes snapped open. She sat up with a jerk. How long had she overstayed her welcome at John and Jade's house? How many hours had it been? No, not just the two spent using her eye ability. What about the time she spent being knocked out? The sun outside, was it morning light? Couldn't be. Couldn't. Unless, Rose asked herself, unless she had slept overnight? A look upwards at John and Jade, standing over her.

"Rise and shine, Rose!" said John. "You must have been really tired, because you were knocked on that puppet pile for a really long time."

Was she? "How long a time, John?" Rose asked.

John counted on his fingers, murmuring little numbers to himself. "Nanna told me you showed up around 2 yesterday afternoon, right? So 12 hours. You were asleep for 12 whole hours, Rose!"

So Rose's fears were confirmed. What about Jade? If this moment was the moment where every possible bad outcome would be, how was Jade right now? There were flashes of tears and agony in the psychoanalyst's mind, the same ones that filled Jade's eyes 12 hours ago. Still, she turned to the gardener. No use avoiding what was going to come.

"John's right about all that," said the gardener. "Anyways, we had breakfast already, but you didn't, so Nanna made you some! I hope you're okay with just cookies."

So that was what those cookies were for. Jade held the tray out to Rose, beaming ear to ear as though yesterday didn't happen.

But yesterday did happen. And Rose, though realising now that her stomach was completely empty, pushed her appetite aside. She couldn't take those cookies. Even though they were flaking with golden oats and wrinkled raisins, filling the air with something light and warm and they looked amazing, she couldn't. It just wasn't right.

"Why?" A simple question, quaking as Rose let it off her tongue. "Jade, I hurt you yesterday. It's too late to say sorry, I know, but I'm sorry. I don't deserve this."

"Don't say that, Rose! You just wanted to help us all, right?"

"What I wanted has nothing to do with this."

"But – "

"You were in pain, Jade. I could tell, but I wouldn't stop. Don't deny it for my sake."

And then, silence. There wasn't anyone in the room besides Rose herself or Jade (when did John leave?). Not a sound made by either one of the girls, when all the words they could think of were the wrong ones to say.

The gardener sighed. "You're right, Rose. I didn't like that. Plus, you said you would only use your power for three minutes! But, still, you just wanted to keep us safe. You must have been really worried, watching me and John and Dave die, but then come back. I'm pretty sure that's why you did what you did, Rose. Don't say that isn't true! I won't make you, but still."

Now Rose was the one who was forced to respond. How the tables turned. "…I suppose so."

"Then I forgive you," said Jade.

But just as Rose was about to smile, the gardener opened her mouth again. Her tone was harder this time. "But don't ever do that again! You have to talk to me or someone else in our Chumroll if you're going to do something like this, and don't try doing research as a way to feel better! Can you promise me this, Rose?"

Silence for two beats, and then, a nod from Rose. "I don't know if I can always do that. I'm hard-set in my ways, but who's to say I won't try? Thank you, Jade."

Rose found herself taken in a hug, something that she savoured each moment of. It was twice as good as the cookies – but those were also well-done.

 **End**


End file.
